UnBooks:So Now and Then

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Fluffy like wicked-bad tasty cotton-candy from the carnival. Yeah man.

So now and then you feel all fluffy inside, fluffy like wicked-bad tasty cotton candy from the carnival, not so sticky though. You feel fluffy and warm like a hot plate of grandma's grits burnt just the way you like them and that if it ever rained you would not get wet, or if it snowed you would not get cold, and sleeted and you all along warm and fluffy like the cotton candy from the carnival, but not so sticky.

But you realize after a while of feeling all fluffy inside that there has got to be more to life than just this life of fluffy carnie warmth and that you have to go on a life-changing adventure to reshape the way people think and rewrite what's in all those boring science books no one reads about nothing in particular while drawing a new map of the world without Canada because its your map of the world and you never particularly liked Canada, although you never really understood why.

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And that is exactly what our hero of mythological space and time, Sir Iwishihadayellowbonnetwithredroses Gallahad, felt like following the days of his great adventure in hunting the Grouchy Green Grotesque Galloping Giant and his abominable herd of horrid Jewish talking Voodoo practicing plaid sheep down in which he nearly lost his own head to a blind armless, legless, and in all other ways immovable and physically and mentally handicap in a bad hand of cards.

After all that vengeful hate inspired fun our hero Gallahad was feeling pretty good about himself. Yeah, he thought he was the best thing since Grandma's burnt grits and that the world was his. He was pumped up with more cotton candy fluff than any ordinary clown had ever seen, sure all you had to do was have him open his eyes or shave the whiskers in his nose and night would look as close to day as Michael Jackson looks to a pale faced middle-aged homeless white woman from South Carolina. He was tripping on one gigantic fluff high when he realized that there was something else out there that he needed to achieve.

So being the strapping handsome stronger young man he was he set out to conquer the unconquerable, encourage the encourage able, dream the impossible dream, and do everything impossible or at least improbable that no one before him had yet completed or otherwise accomplished. And he set off, he set off although something seemed to tell him not to go.

It might have been his family's threats to disown him if he went, his horoscope predicting a most unfortunate and untimely end, his never learning to hop on one leg, the fact he hated missing different colored vegetables, or that stomach-turning, mind-numbing, spine-crippling, butt-tickling, little-pinky-twitching feeling he got in the pit of his soul every time he thought of the journey. Well what ever it was, it was something, yeah it was probably something at the very least.

He set off, though, to change the world and vowed to never return until he did. No I am not one to speculate but not knowing the exact fate of our this-side-of-heaven-matchless hero I am lead to the belief that somehow his inability to jump on one leg and disgust of mixing different colored vegetables combined to cause a most unfortunate and untimely end never suspected by the dreaded stomach-turning, mind-numbing, spine-crippling, butt-tickling, little-pinky-twitching feeling he got in the pit of his soul.

Well, anyhow, the world never changed, Michael Jackson lives, and Canada is still due north of now where in particular since now particularly wants to got there and our hero of mythological space and time never returned and probably never reached the halls of Valhalla, either, never really doing anything all that important in the first place.

Well isn't that just the suckiest ending to any story you have ever read, and who said fairy tales never end badly. Who knows anyway it could have ended well, Mr. Gallahad could have possibly achieved the greatest achievement of any mortal man, a posthumous Darwin Award.

There is a moral to this story of Mr. Gallahad, however. It just goes to show that feeling like fresh fluffy cotton candy isn't that bad after all and is probably the best one can ever expect or hope to achieve.